


Unusual Beginnings

by ConsultingHound



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Fluff, Gen, I dont really know, Trapped in the morgue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingHound/pseuds/ConsultingHound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This challenge seemed fun so I gave it a go.  Not beta'd so there's probably loads of mistakes so apologises but I hope people enjoy this.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Unusual Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This challenge seemed fun so I gave it a go. Not beta'd so there's probably loads of mistakes so apologises but I hope people enjoy this.

How Molly Hopper ended up trapped in the morgue with Sally Donovan was beyond her. All she was really sure of was that they were definitely _inside_ the sterilized room and the keys were definitely _outside_. Outside the locked door. Where they clearly were not. A very good start to the week.

 

They were probably in the office. Again. Like last time when this happened. The Sally part was new though; last time she was alone with only her lunch and an ineffectual phone. It had started with Sherlock. Of course it started with Sherlock. When did anything happen that Sherlock wasn’t involved in?

 

He’d, as usual, come hurtling into the hospital, shouting about a murder or something of the like ( _even though everyone thought she hung onto every word, she merely zoned in every 10 minutes or so to make sure he wasn’t planning anything too destructive_ ) and had demanded use of the morgue because, clearly that’s the way to go about these things.

Trailing him was John, the ever present blogger, Greg Lestrade, the rather handsome DI and Sally Donovan, a woman she knew little about other than she didn’t like Sherlock.

Of course the whirlwind and his band of merry men (and woman) stalked through the doors, grabbed the photo card key on her desk and began to pull open several drawers and looking at several left toenails, collecting some hairs and measuring several ligaments with a ruler.

John praised, Lestrade sighed resigned and Sally scoffed, looking thunderous. Then Sherlock had run out the door, John and Lestrade following suit, leaving Sally and Molly to clean up the mess left behind.

 

“Thanks Sally. He’s a right terror sometimes,” Molly attempted to joke.

“Tell me about it,” Sally huffed, decidedly _not_ joking. Not quite sure how to handle that, Molly stayed quiet and focused in on her task.

It was after, when Sally tried to open the door that they ran into problems.

“Err, Molly? Why isn’t the door opening?”

“Oh.” It was at this point that Molly started to panic slightly. This was mainly because this had happened before. That time it was easier because the door had been a simple lock-and-key model which was easily picked ( _In the early days when she was utterly infatuated, she had listened to every word, including how to pick a lock_ ). Thinking about it that was probably why they upgraded to key cards. Sally turned to look directly at Molly who tried to not look a)panicked and b) slightly guilty.

“Please tell me we aren’t stuck in here until someone finds us.”

“Okay.”

“We’re stuck aren’t we?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Sally sighed and hit her head against the door before going to perch on a table.

 

“So why dead people?” Sally asked abruptly while Molly was wandering around finishing some work that she might as well do because there was really no avoiding it when they were stuck. The question was unexpected and so all she managed was a squeaky ‘What?’ 

“Your job. I mean, why? What was the attraction?” Molly felt a pang of worry that she was being teased ( _again_ ) for her unusual career choice but Sally seemed more bored than anything else.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to make conversation. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want but I was just curious as to what makes this job worth it.”

“Oh um, I suppose it started with an obsession with anatomy, you know, people. But I used to have a problem with the pressure of diagnosis. It kind of made me really ill actually. So dead people seemed like a good compromise. Also it is a key part to helping you guys down at the Yard if you know what someone died of so I guess I thst helps.”

Sally hummed and nodded in thought and, as the silence started to creep back in, Molly asked “So why Scotland Yard?”  Well it wasn’t fair for her to do all the answering know was it?

“It was my dad,” Sally stated, after thinking for a few moments. “He was always talking about how brave and proud he was of all my cousins and so I decided to show him that I could be just as good.”  She then laughed.  Molly looked at her puzzled.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before.  Don’t quite know why I just did.”

“Being trapped will do that too you,” Molly joked.

“You don’t seem very troubled by this? For someone who has just admitted they had trouble with what sounds to be stressful situations, I would think being in a locked room with one would be some kind of torture exercise.”

“Unsurprisingly this may have happened before,” she admitted.

“Sherlock I’m guessing?” Sally interrupted.

“Who else?” she said but with a smile. The dopey idiot.

“You like him.” A statement rather than a question.

“Yes. You don’t.”

“We have what you would call a _disruptive_ past.  We weren’t exactly best friends but then again not many people are. Except you and John. You seem to be his exceptions. Possibly even Lestrade on a good day.” 

“Well he has to be at least tolerable to me. It is still _technically_ my lab. John is just, John.”

“You’re not going to change your opinion are you?”

“No. You aren’t either I suspect.”

“It was worth a try,” Sally replied with a grin.

The silence was much more comfortable afterwards. That was, until Molly had an idea.

“Have you tried your phone?”

“Oh my God,” Sally said, reaching into her pocket and discovering her mobile with minimal signal but functional. She caught Molly’s eye and they both dissolved into slightly hysterical giggles.

They were still chatting when an out of breath Lestrade whose shoes and trousers appeared to be covered in half the Thames came to unlock the door.

“Are you two okay? Jesus, we didn’t realise you were locked in.”

“Oh we’re fine. Aren’t we Molls?” Sally laughed as she sauntered out.

“Totally. See you Saturday?”

“Of course. See you later!” Sally said, as Molly plucked the key out of Lestrade’s hands and walked back to her office.

Lestrade trailed behind Sally, momentarily confused but too tired to care about figuring out the exchange properly. He currently had a 6ft detective to fish waiting hopefully at Scotland Yard with a killer and the other half of the Thames in his billowing coat. 


End file.
